


Limbo

by moonlittides



Series: Kastle Valentine Week [1]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, F/M, Flowers, POV Karen Page, Phone Calls & Telephones, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlittides/pseuds/moonlittides
Summary: Karen receives a surprise gift and phone call from Frank on Valentines Day.





	Limbo

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Kastle fic written for @kastlenetwork's (on Tumblr) 'Kastle Valentine' event. 
> 
> It's a drabble set in season 1 sometime after s1 e02. It's not the traditional Valentines story one would expect, it's angsty and there's not a happy ending (although not a terribly sad ending either). It's very canon-compliant and follows the Kastle formula of angst and things left unsaid. Essentially, this is a short scene I feel could've happened off-screen between Frank and Karen.

Karen strides down the street towards her New York apartment eager to get back home. Generally, Karen enjoys her work, but today has been one of those impossibly long and dreary days. Her constant clock-watching hasn’t helped the time go by any faster either. She’s been working on a Valentines article about a businessman who jetted his terminally ill wife off to Paris and swept her off her feet with a romantic proposal. It’s not really her forte, but her boss insisted. A dull ache throbs throughout the soles of her feet with every step she takes from the new pair of high heels that she’s trying to break in. The sky is grey and overcast to match her sombre mood, and the blustering winds are causing loose strands of her blonde hair to blow in her face. 

Karen takes her keys out of her bag, enters her apartment building and makes her way up the stairs to the second floor. She’s surprised to find a bunch of red roses sitting on her doorstep. Karen nervously glances around, concerned and suspicious about where and who they came from. She leans down to take them into her arms and searches for a card but there isn’t one. She assumes there’s been a mistake and the roses weren’t intended for her. Once she’s inside her apartment she locks up and puts the chain across. A cold, lonely apartment greets her as it does every evening and Karen carelessly tosses the roses onto the table along with her keys. She pulls her heels off, groaning with relief to have her feet freed and massages them firmly in an attempt to stimulate the blood flow and relieve some of the pain. Wine. She needs wine. There’s an open bottle of white already in her fridge so she takes it out and pours herself a generous glass before sinking down onto the couch. Immediately the silence fills her up and she gulps the wine down allowing it to warm her insides and take the edge off. She turns the TV on in a bid to drown out the quiet and notices that the evening’s programmes are dominated by romance. She groans and reluctantly she switches to the news channel. Although politics and journalism are a keen interest of hers, in recent months the news has become a source of anxiety because she dreads to hear those two words – The Punisher. Frank seems to be managing to keep a low profile these days, but she knows he isn’t likely to stay out of the press much longer, even if he is supposed to be dead. The news report that’s on is about record sales of romantic getaways and breaks for Valentine’s Day and Karen finally connects the dots and realises the roses must be a Valentine’s gift. She scoffs. They were definitely delivered to the wrong address. After all, her life is completely devoid of romance these days. 

Karen switches the TV off and goes over to the white roses that sit on her windowsill. They’re completely withered, the petals brown around the edges and the stems limp. She meant to throw them out days ago, but she hasn’t been able to bring herself to. She convinces herself they’re still sitting there because she’s been too busy and too preoccupied to throw them out, but that’s untrue because there’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t water them – despite them being beyond saving – and stop to look at them. When she looks at them she thinks of Frank. She wonders where he is, how he is and what he’s doing. But part of her doesn’t want to know the answers to those questions for fear of what the answers will bring. Where Frank is concerned, Karen has learned that often ignorance is bliss. 

She’s already shared the information she found on Micro with Frank, so the roses serve no purpose anymore. She hastily takes the flowerpot over to the kitchen throws the roses into the trash and replaces them with the red roses. They may not be for her but there’s no reason why she can’t keep them. Afterall, her apartment could use some brightening up. As she returns the flowerpot to the same spot on the windowsill with the fresh red roses in it, she instinctively looks up sensing a presence. Her breath hitches in her throat when she sees Frank standing outside across the street looking up at her. He’s wearing all black – as always – and has his hood up. Karen blinks rapidly a few times wondering if her eyes are playing tricks and she’s simply seeing what she wants to see. But Frank doesn’t go anywhere, he stays where he is and holds her gaze. His mouth twists up into some semblance of a smile and he nods his head at her in acknowledgement. It’s then that she realises that the roses finding their way to her door was no mistake. 

They’re from Frank. 

She watches as Frank takes his cell out of his pocket and holds it up to his ear. Her cell begins to buzz in her pocket and she answers it, her stomach doing somersaults. 

“Hey.” The sound of Frank’s gruff voice warms her heart and she didn’t know it was possible to feel so many emotions from just one word. 

“Hey.” Her voice comes out strained. Suddenly a lump has formed in her throat that makes it difficult to speak or breathe. 

“So, uh, you got the roses, huh?” 

Karen clears her throat. “Er, um, yeah, yeah. I got them,” she stammers, awkwardly. She’s trying and failing to hide her nerves. “Thought they’d come to the wrong address.”

He bows his head and lets out a breathy chuckle. 

“Thanks,” she adds. “So…how…how are you?” 

“I’m ‘aight, you know…” 

“Is there a reason for this little visit? Because last time you brought me flowers it was because you needed my help.” 

“Nah, not this time. I just—I wanted to get you something. You know, to say thanks for helping me out with that Micro stuff.” 

“Right.” 

Silence extends between them and Karen continues to look down on him from the window. 

“Do you want to come up? I’ve got a bottle of wine open.” 

“Uh…”, he clears his throat, “…you know, I’m not really a wine drinking kind of guy.” 

“No, I guess not. You’re more of an old-fashioned kind of guy, right?” 

He does that little laugh again that sets her heart racing. “Ah, yeah. Yeah, I guess I am, sweetheart.”

A bright smile comes across Karen’s face. It’s the first time he’s called her sweetheart. For a moment she wonders if she imagined he said it and if she’s imagining this entire encounter. Or perhaps dreaming. But if this is a dream why is it so damn sad? Why is he down there instead of up here with his arms wrapped around her? 

“Are you looking after yourself?” 

“Ah, you know me.” 

“Yeah, I do.” After a pause she asks, “Am I going to see you again?” Her heart suddenly grows heavy.

Even from across the street Karen sees his expression change and that dark cloud that’s usually hanging over him returns. He sighs deeply down the receiver and stammers for a moment before answering, “I’ll be, uh, I’ll be around.” 

“Around, Frank? Around? Is that the best you’ve got?” 

“’Fraid so.” 

Anger flashes through her at knowing that after this brief encounter he will return to the shadows again leaving her in the dark awaiting a visit from him that may never come. She lives for the days she sees him, but it's also easier when she doesn't see him, because when she does see him she knows it won't be long until she has to say goodbye again. 

“Why did you come, Frank?” 

“I told you. Wanted to say thanks.” 

“You already did. You know, every time I see you I don’t know if it’ll be the last time. Every morning I wake up and I half expect to see the headline that you’re dead.” 

“Did you forget? I already am dead.” 

She sighs, frustrated. “You know what I mean, Frank.” 

He exhales deeply. “Look, you know me better than that, Karen. I’m not the one that dies.” 

“No, you’re the one that does the killing.” Her words are harsher than she intended them to be and although Frank is tougher than anyone she’s ever met she knows she’s hurt him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no… You’re—It’s okay,” he replies, his voice quiet. “I’m, er, I’m sorry. I should…uh…I should go. It was good to see you.”

“Frank…” She wants to beg him not to leave her again but knows that no amount of begging will change the circumstances that has them perpetually trapped in this limbo between love and loneliness. Karen is starting to wonder if this is simply where they belong, and this is all they’ll ever be – two connected souls that pass by one another on occasion, always close but never close enough, words shared but so much left unsaid. 

“You stay safe, yeah?” 

“Frank…” 

“I’ll see you, Karen.” 

There’s so much she wants to say, but she bids him goodbye and all at once the sound of his voice is replaced by the droning dial tone of her cell. He lifts his head and meets her eyes. She holds them and in that one gaze they communicate all the things they were unable to say. By the time Karen has blinked Frank is gone, like a ghost on the wind. Her chest constricts, her stomach churns and it feels that her soul has disappeared along with Frank. The loneliness returns, washing over her like a tidal wave and the vacuum Frank momentarily filled seems even bigger than before. She stoops down and buries her face into the roses. A stray tear trickles down her cheek and lands on the blood red petal.   
Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she eagerly grabs it off the windowsill. 

It’s a text from Frank. 

‘Forgot to say – Happy Valentines’. 

It’s short and it’s sweet but reading it causes a rush of emotions to explode inside Karen and she finds herself simultaneously giggling and crying. Loving Frank Castle is maddening, but she’s damned if she can do anything to change it. Her heart belongs to him and that’s why whether she likes it or not she spends her days endlessly waiting for the day she will get to see him or speak to him again. If this limbo is where Frank is, then this is where she will stay. Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It's always nerve-wracking writing for a new ship/fandom, but please let me know if you enjoyed it, because I might follow up with other stories for the event since it runs until the 19th February.


End file.
